Lynne McCrossan: Gabe or garbage? What a dilemma for an old rocker

Published on 09/07/2012 12:00

NOWADAYS there isn’t much that’ll get me out of the house past dusk.

The one-year old is royally kicking my backside, so when he finally decides to give into the sandman somewhere close to midnight I’m usually two blinks behind him.

But the homecoming of Shirley Manson our city’s most famous redhead, forced me out of party isolation for one night only. And god it felt good.

Garbage was gigging in Glasgow and by some fluke I was spending that night at my mother’s mere metres away.

So when invited to a private party for the band thrown by PR supremo Mary McGowne, it felt like the right time to take the peep toes out of hibernation and rejoin the world.

Gabe was still up gabbing as I left him at granny’s feeling giddy and guilty while wearing a full-length sequin gown.

Inside the Corinthian, I was greeted by old mates, my best friend Lou Hickey came fresh from the gig and cult classic photographer Brian Sweeney, who lovingly shot my book, was there as well wearing his camera, signature bobble hat and, of course, a smile.

Glasvegas and Kassidy were next in, and as I started reminiscing with Hamish from the band I realised the last time we talked was at T in the Park way back in 2010.

That makes it two years since I partied last, so my Gabe guilt subsided slightly and I slinked back to bed a little later than planned at 3am.

Note to self, when getting up to board the first sailing back to Belfast with a baby don’t do it with a hangover.

Guilt reinstated.

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